


Good Kitty

by radiofreekerberos



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) Whump, Protective Paladins, Team Voltron Family, Whump Fic, red lion - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 22:50:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11656314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiofreekerberos/pseuds/radiofreekerberos
Summary: A mission gone horribly wrong leaves Keith badly wounded and team Voltron cut off from their lions. Normally, the Red Lion would be there in a heartbeat, if she was still talking to him that is.“Wait, no, no, no, no,” someone babbles anxiously, rushing over to him and gently but firmly forcing his hand back down to his side. It falls limply into the grass, uselessly skimming through the thick brush just like the rest of him. “That’s the only thing keeping you from bleeding out right now, removing it would be very, very bad.”





	Good Kitty

**Author's Note:**

> I just opened this account like yesterday. This is the first fic I've written for this fandom, I hope you like it.

It’s hot. Like, super humid drippy gross hot. Even before opening his eyes, Keith can feel the sticky beads of sweat saturating his flight suit beneath his armor and rolling down his face into his damp hair. There’s a weird rushing sound as well, sort of like the sound wind makes when it rustles through a field of tall grass, and the stamp of hurried footsteps all around him. The damp air is thick with the pungent smell of especially fragrant vegetation. The loamy scent of dried leaves and moss and sickly sweet blossoms reaches him amid the constant squawks and screams of birds and other hidden forest creatures.

Turns out the rushing sound is him. He’s moving through the thick brush, but not under his own power.

He opens his eyes, immediately fixating on the… What is it? An arrow? A bolt? No, more like a spike, or a giant thorn embedded in his chest. His chin lolls, his heavy head banging against his chest as he’s dragged through the dappled grass by his collar. 

His eyes narrow, studying the polished object protruding from his chest. The edges are rounded and there are spiral designs carved all along its length. It’s kind of pretty actually, ornamental. Keith would probably admire the craftsmanship if it wasn’t currently sticking out of him. 

Slowly, he lifts a trembling hand to try to dislodge it, but the surface is smooth and slick and impossible to get a hold of. It takes him a moment to realize it’s because it’s covered in his blood.

“Wait, no, no, no, no,” someone babbles anxiously, rushing over to him and gently but firmly forcing his hand back down to his side. It falls limply into the grass, uselessly skimming through the thick brush just like the rest of him. “That’s the only thing keeping you from bleeding out right now, removing it would be very, very bad.” 

Keith manages to lift his head slightly to find Hunk’s concerned eyes looking back at him. Pidge is jogging along side him, her pale face a study in anxiety as she holds her Bayard at the ready and warily scans the dense forest around them as if anticipating an attack from above. 

Keith’s head lolls forward onto his chest. He’s too tired to hold it up any longer. His entire body is starting to feel numb. He can no longer feel the tall blades of grass running through his bloodstained fingers, or the piles of dried leaves crackling beneath his body as he’s dragged through them. He can’t really feel anything, oh except for the stabbing pain piercing his chest every time he takes a tremulous breath. THAT he feels real good. It’s like trying to breathe through a filter of shattered glass.

“Keep it down,” someone loud whispers tensely, it sounds like Shiro. Keith thinks he might be the one dragging him. “You’ll give away our position.”

Right, they were attacked, Keith seems to recall dimly. They’d been answering a distress call from a planet that Keith can’t remember the name of now. San-something, or maybe it was Sam or Sav. Anyway they’d arrived at the designated coordinates, exiting their lions with some trepidation when no one had appeared to greet them. They’d entered the forest, Pidge tracking the source of the beacon with GPS, only to come to a seemingly empty clearing. 

The forest around them had gone suddenly quiet. The hackles on the back of Keith’s neck started to rise as he’d realized a hair too late that something was deeply amiss. He’d been in the midst of calling out some sort of warning when something slammed into his chest like a freight train and knocked him off his feet.

Which brings him back to the present, where he assumes they’ve been cut off from their lions and are hauling his stupid ass through a hostile rainforest while trying to evade an as yet unknown enemy. Keith has a bad habit of standing apart from the rest of the group, Shiro’s called him on it again and again. It had made him an easy target. If he could feel his legs, he’d be kicking himself right now.

Just to add salt to the wound, metaphorically speaking, Karma decides to answer Shiro’s warning with a giant middle finger, and the air is suddenly screaming with flying projectiles. They slice through the air like missiles, whistling through the foliage to deeply embed themselves in the grass at the paladins feet and the tree trunks surrounding them.

“Shit!” Someone yelps, Lance, Keith guesses, though he seems to be leading the procession along with Shiro and is beyond Keith’s field of vision. “I _still_ can’t see where they’re coming from!” he cries and Keith imagines him holding his energy rifle at the ready, desperately scanning the dense vegetation for a target to shoot at.

“This way!” Shiro snaps, veering sharply off to the left with Keith helplessly in tow. They come to a halt beneath an especially dense copse of trees. Keith can see the silver-gray leaves forming a protective canopy overhead as he’s eased onto his side amid a small patch of velvety moss. The others immediately form a protective huddle around him.

“Maybe it’s some kind of natural phenomenon,” Pidge says tensely. She flinches when a stray bolt whizzes past her head, pulling her limbs a bit more tightly to herself to make a smaller target. “Like super aggressive acid-rain.”

“No,” Shiro says, squinting into the densely oppressive tree-line surrounding them, “there’s definitely someone out there. I can hear them moving through the brush. I think they’ve got some kind of camouflage capability.” He looks angry. Angrier than Keith’s ever seen him, but there’s also a manic touch of panic about him. Keith’s mouth goes suddenly dry at the look of quiet desperation in his eyes.

“Great,” Lance mutters, gripping his energy rifle in white-knuckled hands, “so we’re being hunted by the Predator, that’s just perfect.”

Hunk doesn’t say anything, but Keith can feel his fingers on the pulse at his neck. He closes his eyes, concentrating on drawing air into his burning lungs. It’s gotten much harder to breathe. His lungs feel like rocks in his chest, as if they’ve seized up and are no longer capable of accepting his feeble gasping breaths.

“How’s he doing?” Shiro asks, and Keith opens his eyes to find Shiro’s jaw clenched in concern. He’s studiously avoiding looking directly into Keith’s face, as if seeing his pain will be too much for Shiro to bear.

“Not great,” Hunk says, his mouth pressed in a grim line, “his pulse is getting weaker and his breathing’s really irregular. I think one of his lungs might’ve collapsed. His chest cavity might be filling up with air. We’re running out of time.”

“I know, I know, I know,” Shiro mutters to himself. Keith can see the wheels turning inside Shiro’s head as he desperately tries to come up with some sort of plan that won’t end in each member of his team getting summarily picked off by hidden alien snipers. 

“Red,” Keith whispers, his voice raspy and his throat raw from the effort of breathing. He can feel her invisible presence lingering at the very edges of his consciousness. She’s been like that for weeks, standoffish and still angry with him for abandoning her when Shiro was missing. 

He closes his eyes, putting every last ounce of his waning strength into concentrating on getting her to listen to him. “Red please,” he says, his voice suddenly faltering when it becomes too difficult to talk and breathe at the same time. _I need you,_ he thinks, trying to open his mind completely and make the depth of his need apparent to her.

There’s no response at first, and he thinks he’s failed. Then her presence practically explodes inside his head. The warmth of her quintessence washes over him like a comforting tide. The ebb and flow of her anger recedes and is abruptly replaced by an overwhelming feeling of concern for his well-being.

Everyone but Keith startles at the formidable roar that suddenly splits the air. There’s a crash and the unmistakable sound of trees toppling when a second roar, closer this time, reverberates throughout the forest. The bolts abruptly stop flying amid an eruption of frightened birds and a flurry of panicked shouts and Keith smiles. It’s going to be okay. She’s on her way.

“Good Kitty,” he whispers into the blanket of velvet moss pressed against his clammy cheek.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on the [tumblr](https://radiofreekerberos.tumblr.com/)


End file.
